Admittance
by obsessed1
Summary: Sequel to Admitted. John goes home.


Title: Admittance

Author: Obsessed1  
Character(s): John John and team.  
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: H/C -Angst  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Nothing too explicit.  
Summary: Sequal to my fic Admitted. John goes home. Inspired by the upcoming episode OUTCAST.

John breathed deeply, hand poised in front of the door, fist curled in readiness to test the hard wood.

He didn't know what he was even doing there. He was supposed to be resting; _recovering_ from his ordeal. Sure, he'd spoken to the psychologist. He'd told her what she wanted to hear and promised to go to a follow up session which was about as likely as Rodney admitting a mistake. And then, in a move that maybe warranted that follow up consultation, he found himself asking to be driven here.

_This is stupid John,_ he thought as he stood with his fist in the air.

He didn't even know why he'd come. He doubted his reception would differ from last time. Except, he'd changed. Maybe that was enough.

_No_, his internal voice belayed.

He had to leave, get back to the SGC and……..he was lowering his hand when the door swung open and an older man answered the door, hair grey and stance rigid.

"John?"

He couldn't seem to speak, the words caught in his throat.

"What….." the man stepped out onto the porch and looked around, "Are you alone?"

John nodded, "Yeah dad."

His father regarded him, tilting his head slightly, "You going to stand there all day?"

John raised his eyebrows, expecting more some how. There was no awkward hug, no handshake; he'd been out of contact for years and his father simply turned away and headed into the house.

John followed him inside and he could hear his father shouting something from the kitchen.

"Just made some coffee. You want one?"

John scanned the sitting room, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other, feeling like a visitor in what should have been home. But then, he hadn't called it home in a long time.

"Uh…sure," he said perching on the arm of the sofa.

The house hadn't changed much. Everything was exactly the same, only it seemed quieter. There were two sofas facing one another, in the far corner was an old armchair looking out to the window. A piano, a shelf heaving with military books and paraphernalia and there was a television in the corner. His father didn't watch TV. He preferred to read or sit out on the back porch with a drink. When he was much younger he and his brother knew they were never to disturb his father when he was having what he called his 'quiet' time. Like all kids, they'd test him until he chased them into the house and sent them to their rooms.

Before he knew it, his father was setting a tray down onto the coffee table between the two sofas and patting John's leg irritably.

"Don't sit on the arms like that."

John sidled over and sat on the sofa, still leaning awkwardly and waiting for his father to ask the inevitable.

"You want sugar in your coffee?" his father asked instead, towering over him as if he were still a child.

"This is fine."

"I could get you some sugar if you want."

Any excuse to leave.

"No…..thanks."

John picked up his mug and near scolded his fingers.

"It'll still be hot."

"I…can see that," John said rubbing his hands on his jeans and regretted answering back immediately.

If he were younger, his father would have called him on it. Instead, he ignored it.

A familiar silence settled between them. It had arrived with the death of his mother all those years ago and refused to leave. John was used to it and ordinarily he and his father could have sat there in for hours. To outsiders it could have been mistaken for a companionable silence; but mostly it was because neither of them had much to say. He was surprised when his father broke it.

"So……."

His father shifted in his seat, rearranged the cushion behind him and then reached for his mug.

"They kicked you out didn't they?"

John closed his eyes briefly and felt his mouth curve with a smile. He should have known his father would expect the worst. After his black mark he had been subjected to this kind of scrutiny for a long time. It was one of the reasons they hadn't spoken for so long. He had grown tired of disappointing his father.

"No…they haven't kicked me out."

"Well you haven't been stationed here in the states for nearly three years have you and before you say anything…of course I checked. I still have friends in high places."

John concentrated on his mug of coffee. Obviously he didn't have friends high enough or he would have known where he was. He felt a sudden pang of guilt for keeping his life secret from his family. If his mother had been alive, maybe it would have been different.

"So…..where were you? Afghanistan? Iraq?"

"No….I've been-" and it was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell him but he wasn't sure how he would react, "I've-"

"Oh," his father looked disappointed, "Still in Antarctica then."

John didn't correct him.

"_They_ thrown you out?"

"No."

"Excuse me if I'm being dim John but……why are you here?"

"I had some time off. Thought I'd check in."

His dad eyed him suspiciously and then slurped his drink, "Well, it may have been a long time but…..it's……" and he hesitated, "…….good to see you….. son."

John was already beginning to regret his decision to come here. No son should have to hear their father practically choke out those words.

"You visited your mother lately?"

Another uncomfortable topic of conversation.

"Not yet."

"Graveside's looking nice although damn kids destroyed the flowers I put there last week."

"What kids?" and John was sitting forward, anger surfacing. He had a good handle on anger. _That_ he could deal with.

"Just…kids," his father rubbed his face tiredly, "Chased them a few times. They've got skateboards…couldn't keep up."

"I could go down there…talk to them," and even to his own ears that sounded ridiculous.

His father smiled and suddenly John realised how old he looked, "And do what? Can't touch a kid these days without getting sued. In my day you could have spanked a child and the parents would have thanked you. Not today."

"Times have changed," John noted idly.

The silence was back again. Heavy and clamouring.

"You're looking well."

John knew that he wasn't. He was still paler than he should have been, hiding the marks on his arms with a long jumper and you could still see the bruising on his face if you caught him in the right light. He was anything but healthy, but then he supposed it was the kind of thing you said to a son you hadn't seen in years.

"You staying?"

John didn't know. He hadn't bought anything with him.

"I was going to head back……"

"You drive here?"

That was his dad. One question after another. His answers were always cut off. As a kid it had driven him crazy.

"I need to do the grocery store anyway. You can come if you want?"

John could think of nothing worse.

"Sure."

"Good," and he was up again, walking over to the door to grab his jacket and car keys, "-well are you coming?"

"I was going to finish my…" John looked longingly at his coffee, "-coming."

What was it about visiting home that always had John feeling like he was regressing slightly? He sat in the passenger seat of the car and got snapped at for fiddling with the radio and then his sense of direction was insulted when he suggested a back route that might be quicker. His father liked order. He apparently always took the same route. Every Tuesday at three fifteen.

By the time they had arrived at the grocery store, John was beginning to feel his easy going façade crack. He felt even more demoralised as he lagged behind his father in the store.

When they reached the check out, John squeezed passed his father and stood to watch the cars passing the store front. He could hear his fathers' conversational voice drifting his way.

"Afternoon."

"Hey Mr Sheppard. How are you today?"

"I'm fine Louisa."

"Oh hey, did I tell you about Bobby? He's coming home!"

John angled his head towards them; wondering why his father would be interested.

"From Iraq?"

There it was.

"He got shot so they're sending him back to recuperate. I'm picking him up on Friday."

"They couldn't patch him up and send him out?"

His father was a great believer in pushing through the pain. If he skinned his knees playing football, fell off his bike or had a raging his fever, his father would tell him to grin and bare it. The only way he got time off school was if his father was away and then his mother would let him sit in front of the television all day and bring him ice cream and cola.

"No…..he can't walk. Damaged nerves or something," she faltered, "…….but isn't that great!"

"I guess he was out there for a year wasn't he?"

"The kid's have missed him. It's all they can talk about."

"Well I'm happy for you of course. Injured in the line of duty is better than being dismissed."

And John felt his gut clench. He didn't know if that was a dig at him or not. It felt like it, but then he'd always been too sensitive to his father's remarks. There was a time when his father had called him overly emotional. That seemed funny now.

Something in his jeans pocket started making a horrendous noise and instinct was to reach up and activate his earpiece. He retracted the cell phone from his pocket and wandered back over to his father.

"I'm just going to take this outside. Dad?"

His father nodded and he heard the check out girl ask who he was before he stepped outside into the rain.

"John."

"_Colonel __Sheppard. Doctor Lam wanted me to remind you to take your meds at six."_

John leaned against the car and smiled, "Tell Doctor Lam that I won't forget."

"_She also said, that if you feel unwell you're to return to the SGC __ASAP."_

"I got that. Tell her not to worry. I'll be back tonight anyway."

"_Okay Sir."_

John rammed his cell into his back pocket and turned to see his father coming out of the store laden with bags. When he tried to help, his dad said he was fine and John sat in the car and waited for the ride home.

"Nice girl Louisa," his father was saying as he keyed the ignition, "Her husband's been in Iraq for a year. Coming back with an extra leaf."

John nodded.

"He's a local hero around here. Folk think a lot of him. They'll be some kind of parade on Friday."

John grit his teeth.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner had been eaten in relative silence. They'd attempted conversation but John knew that there were too many issues hanging in the air to be solved with small talk about the beef.

After dinner his father suggested having a drink out on the back porch and he'd followed, settling in one of the wicker chairs with his beer and staring out across the fields that had once housed horses. His father had sold them on years ago; he would never admit to not being able to handle the upkeep.

"So son…….you spoke to Nancy then?"

John tried to avoid his gaze.

"She tell you I'm sick?" and he laughed a little, swirling the amber liquid of his scotch, "She's a good woman that one. You know she's getting married again?"

John didn't. It didn't bother him as much as he thought. He guessed he expected as much. Nancy really had been a good woman.

"She still rings me every week. Checks I'm okay. I told her I'm fine. Damn doctors don't know what they're talking about."

"Are you sick?"

His dad tapped his chest, "Heart trouble. I'm taking tablets. I'm fine."

"She seemed to think it was a little more than that."

"She would. She's a worrier."

John slouched into his seat, expecting to be told off for it. _Sit up straight! Don't slouch!_

"She was a keeper that one. One decision of yours I agreed with."

John knew that he was probably right. But they were heading in different directions. Not every woman enjoyed being a military man's wife.

"You spoke to your brother recently?"

"Haven't had a chance."

"He's your brother John. You should ring him."

"I will."

"Will you?"

John sighed and placed his barely touched beer between his knees. He wasn't in the mood to drink. He also knew he wasn't supposed to drink with the medication he was taking and his stomach was already churning. Disagreeing with the oversized meal he had eaten and the long day. He knew he was probably flushed and he could feel sweat prickling his hairline, but thankfully the porch was dimly lit and his father spent most of his time talking out to the field.

He missed Atlantis.

"Did I tell you I'm going to sell up?"

"What? You love this place."

"Loved this place. Without the animals and your mother it's just a house. I was thinking of downsizing."

"You'll regret it."

"We all have regrets John. Some more than others."

John reached up to his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. His head was beginning to pound and the idea of the long drive back to Cheyenne was about as unappealing as his beer. He swallowed thickly and willed his stomach contents to stay where they were.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been then?" his father asked suddenly, voice turning serious.

"That's kind of why I'm here."

"Really?"

John swallowed again, the sudden overwhelming feeling of illness forced him to be quiet and then his father spoke anyway.

"You could have been a Colonel by now. If you'd stayed on the right track of course." It never took long for this to come up.

"Actually…..I am a-" and that was when his stomach decided to rebel.

His father was barely out of his chair before John rushed passed him and just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up the contents of his stomach. He kicked the door shut with his foot and slumped down next to the toilet, sucking in painful hiccupping breaths. This was such a bad idea. He should never have come here. He should have stayed put in the infirmary for another day or two. He had been told there would be set backs like this and he couldn't help but think it was being here, with his father, which had caused it. There was a knock on the door and before he could answer, it was flung open and his father was standing there.

--------------------------------------

His wasn't the caring one. His wife had been. So he stood in the doorway for a few seconds, assessing the situation, the condition of his son, before crouching down beside him and placing his hand on his forehead. He tutted loudly.

"You're sick?"

John tried to move away, "I'm fine."

He heard his own words coming out of his son's mouth and cringed.

"Remember when you fell from that tree and said you were fine? You'd broken your wrist." He noted the thick black wrist band his son still wore to hide the scar,"……. now stop being stubborn and let me take a look at you."

John shirked away, looking young and vulnerable and managed to ease himself upright.

He pulled out a medical kit and shoved a thermometer into his mouth before John could protest, "When did this start?"

"I'm fine," he said around the thermometer.

As they waited in stilted silence he said, "You need a hair cut."

John rolled his eyes and pushed a hand through his hair, "What's wrong with it?"

He was certain it wasn't regulation, but then it never had been. He used to joke to his wife that he had come out with the same stuck up shock of dark hair. "Your temperature's elevated."

John got up and went over the wash basin to rinse his mouth, while he hovered behind him. Something was wrong.

"You're staying here tonight. You just need some sleep."

His son didn't seem to like his idea, "I have to get back."

"You're sick. Admit it."

John's hands were shaking and when he saw his staring his tucked them behind his back, "I'm okay. I just ate something that didn't agree with me."

"Are you saying I'm a bad cook?"

"I'm saying……_dad_.." and he actually whined.

"_Fine_. Go back to wherever it is you've been staying. I'll be out on the porch finishing my drink."

He heard John mutter something under his breath and he would have continued down the stairs but there was then there was a thump. He found John on his knees, eyes wide and glassy and breathing heavily.

"One night," he said swallowing thickly.

"Your room's where you left it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something clattering outside his window woke him in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat and tangled in his sheets. It took a moment to re-orient himself and remember where he was. He turned the lamp on and nearly knocked over a glass of water. A glass of water he hadn't bought into the room with him.

He scrubbed at his face and stood, creeping over to the window. It was raining in sheets but he could clearly see figures down there, lurking in the darkness.

He opened his door a crack and slipped out into the hallway, bare feet soundlessly caressing the carpet.

When he reached the top step, he heard something cock behind him and he was staring into the barrel of a revolver.

"Dad!" he whispered into the darkness.

"I heard a noise."

John reached out and pushed the gun down, "I'll check it out."

"You're sick and you don't have a gun."

They stared at one another, neither refusing to back down. His father wanted to be the protector and John was so used to being the one in command that he snapped, "Put that away before you injure someone."

"John!" His father hissed angrily.

He sighed, "Just wait here…..."

"Well…..take this."

The revolver was pressed into his hands.

He crept down the stairs and he had the vague sense that his father was still standing up there, in the dark, listening to his every move.

John moved over to the door, his surroundings lurching as he walked and when he pressed his ear against the wood he could definitely hear hushed voices.

The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. He doubted it would even work.

He looked through the eye hole and then groaned, before opening the door and hissing.

"Rodney!" and then to the other figure, "Ronon?"

McKay was drenched from head to toe and Ronon wasn't looking all that impressed either.

"What are you doing here?"

McKay looked him up and down, "You said you were coming back tonight. You didn't."

"How did you know I was here?"

McKay held up a white object and smiled, "We tracked you. Subcutaneous transmitter? Where are we anyway?"

John looked over his shoulder and snuck out onto the porch, closing the door behind him, "As you can see, I'm fine. I'll be back tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Oh come on! It's freezing out here and I'm soaked. This place is out in the sticks."

"It's a farm," John said defensively, "There's a motel down the road."

"A motel?" McKay turned on his heel and John felt cold rainwater spray at him, "We thought you'd….you'd been….kidnapped by the trust or something!"

"John," Ronon nearly growled and he didn't know if he was pleading to go inside or asking for permission to shut McKay up.

"Look…"

The door opened and his father was stood there, staring at the three of them with a confused expression.

"John?"

"It's okay dad. They were just leaving."

"Dad?" McKay repeated, looking from one man to another.

"You know these people?"

"These people?" McKay declared, "We're his team!"

"John?"

"Meet Doctor Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex. _This_ is my father. They're my team-mates and they were just leaving."

"Where are your manners John? They're soaked through and it's nearly midnight."

"There's a motel down the road."

His father clipped him on the arm, "You know full well they won't accept guests at this time of night. Come in, get dried off."

John groaned and McKay flashed him a smug smile as he stepped inside. Ronon gave John a nod and headed in too.

"John, get these men some towels so they can dry off."

He had headed upstairs and put some more clothes on and grabbed some towels. As he came down the stairs he heard his father say,

"So, you work with John? Are you military?"

John quickly intervened, deliberately throwing a towel at McKay before he could answer.

"McKay is a scientist and Ronon was military. I'm sure they're both tired dad so……"

His father looked him up and down, "I apologise for my son's rudeness. I assure you it's a trait he didn't pick up from me. I'll be heading back to bed. You two can stay in the guest room tonight."

And with that he disappeared.

"What are you doing here?" John asked.

"Now now Colonel, don't be rude."

"Rodney."

"Like we said, you didn't check in."

"He made me come with him," Ronon moaned.

"You were up. Don't pretend I woke you up and dragged you here."

"You'd never drag _me_ McKay."

"Look, I appreciate the concern but I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"I wasn't out jogging Rodney! I was asleep and you woke me knocking over that damn pot plant."

"Well it was in a stupid position, right on the step. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"I don't think my dad gets many visitors out here."

"Well…anyway, you look like crap."

"Like I said. I was in bed."

"So," and McKay was being nosy, looking around the sitting room, "This is where you grew up?"

"Not really," John said crossing his arms over his chest and stepping in front of a picture of him as a child.

"It's nice," Ronon said sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"Don't……" and John grimaced, "Don't sit there, my dad kinda…"

Ronon stood up and looked confused.

"Your dad what?" McKay asked with a grin.

"I'll show you where the guest room is if you promise we leave very early in the morning."

"Fine. We're needed back at Atlantis anyway. I'm sure the place has fallen apart without us."

"Keep your voice down."

"What?"

"Don't mention the A word here."

"He doesn't know?"

"No and I'm not sure I'm going to tell him. Just….don't mention it okay?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shout woke him in the middle of the night. There were voices from the guest room, the sound of movement on the creaky floorboards, a door opening followed by more whispers.

Slipping out of bed and stepping up to the door, he pressed his ear against the wood and listened.

"_He should never have come here. He's still sick apparently."_

"_You know Sheppard."_

"_Unfortunately, yes!"_

"_McKay-"_

"_Well, he needs to shut up because if his father hears him then he's going to have to answer some awkward questions."_

"_I could shut him up."_

"_No…..what's the saying? Bull in a china store…..I'll do it. You wait out here."_

Another door opened and then he could the one called Rodney speaking in a hushed tone.

"_John……Shep-"_

There was silence and then.

"_Sheppard…wake up you idiot!"_

"_What…what's going on?"_

"_You were having a nightmare."_

"_I was. Don't remember it."_

"_Was it…from you know? Or just the usual?"_

"_Like I said….I don't really remember."_

"_Did you take your pills?"_

"_Forgot…..they're in my pants."_

"_You had one thing to remember and you forgot, you know they're important…...where?….oh there they are….don't you fold your clothes at night? These will be creased and……why do you have this in your pocket? Oh well….here."_

"_Be quiet Rodney."_

"_Well if you actually put your belongings away at night I wouldn't be tripping over them would I?"_

He'd had enough. He opened the door and stepped out onto the hallway, only to stumble straight into the large one called Ronon. He was crossing his arms, stood outside John's room and when he spotted him he blocked his view into his son's bedroom.

"What's going on?" he asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he tried to look passed Ronon, "It doesn't _sound_ like nothing."

"McKay's just talking to Sheppard."

"Let me pass."

Ronon looked from him to the doorway and seemed to consider it.

"He's my son. I know when something's wrong." But there was a small voice inside him that disagreed. His son had changed.

And then suddenly McKay was at the door and John was with him, hair tousled with sleep and rubbing at his eyes.

"I'm fine dad, go back to sleep."

"John…I know when you're lying to me. Had enough practice when you were growing up."

McKay pushed passed Ronon and hovered behind him in the dark. He could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. His son was obviously anything but fine.

"It was just a nightmare….Rodney was just checking on me."

"Nightmare?" he looked to McKay and then back at his son, "From what? And what medication…yes I heard…your friend isn't exactly quiet."

"Hey!"

John held his hand up at McKay's protestation and closed his eyes, "They help me sleep that's all."

"John if you don't tell me what's going on right now I swear I….." he paused, remembering that John wasn't a kid anymore, nor was he a teenager. "It's post traumatic stress isn't it? That's why you're here."

John bit his lip.

"Is it?"

"No dad….."

"I know we haven't exactly seen eye to eye over the years, god knows you've done some downright stupid things but you can tell me."

"No," John said closing the door, "I can't. See you in the morning."

He stood there, aware that John's friends were creeping off and he twisted on his heel.

"No," he said quietly, "Both of you, downstairs now. I want to know what's going on with my son."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He switched the kitchen light on and McKay, the scientist, sat on one of the breakfast stools and rubbed at his face. Ronon leaned against the counter, crossing his arms again.

"You hungry?" he asked.

McKay's eyes lit up, "I am actually."

"There's some leftovers in the refrigerator."

McKay hopped off the stool and started rifling through the fridge, mumbling something or other about citrus. He sat back down with a ridiculous quantity of food and as he started eating, Ronon joined him, picking at a piece of chicken.

He poured himself a drink of water and reached for his heart pills, swallowing them down quickly before joining them. He knew they were watching him, but the scientist chastising of John only served to remind him that he had in fact forgotten to take his own pills.

"So?"

"I haven't eaten in hours. This is good….what is it?"

It seemed strange to him that a man would eat something without knowing what it was. He didn't answer and he noticed Ronon nudge him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Oh…you mean John. He's fine."

"Really?" There was that word again, _fine_.

"Yeah, you know him. Works too hard……hardly sleeps……..probably just exhausted."

Sadly, he realised he didn't know his son. He never really considered his son as being lazy; perhaps it was his easy going demeanour, the sarcasm, the slow drawl he'd acquired on one of their moves. Not lazy, but he guessed John lived by his own rules.

"So what's he doing now?" he was a little embarrassed to ask, "I mean, you're a scientist, can't see you working out on the field."

"I'm always out in the field."

"Really? What military qualifications do you have?"

McKay continued to chew.

"I don't. Not really. He's the one with the qualifications."

He looked to Ronon, "Really?"

"Had my own battalion," Ronon stated, shifting in his seat.

"Where have you served? Overseas?"

Ronon shoved a tomato into his mouth, "Sateda mainly…..did a stint out at Furalia and –"

He noticed McKay now nudge _him_ in the ribs and he promptly stopped talking.

"I've never heard of those places……" he thought about getting a map and getting him to point them out, "You were never stationed in Afghanistan? Iraq? Libya?"

Ronon shook his head, "Never heard of them."  
"Of course he has," McKay cut in, "He's just…..battle fatigued….."

"And John has been working with you? You're his…team? I'm a little confused. Is John okay?"

"The Colonel is fine," McKay said going over the refrigerator again and pulling out a bottle of water, "Like I said-"

"Colonel?" He felt his heart skip a beat.

"Yes."

"Did you just say John is a Colonel."

"Yes," McKay was distracted, "He got promoted a few years ago didn't you…" he stopped talking, realising what he had just said and then amended quickly, "-it was all very fast and he didn't even have a ceremony I don't think-"

"He was promoted and he didn't even tell me." He felt like he was in shock. He'd never agreed with John's decision to join the military. Why should he? He was his son. He wanted more for him than to become another casualty. And yet, his reassignment to Antarctica, the smearing of the good name Sheppard, had disappointed him. To know that he had progressed, gained some prestige and to have never been told hurt unexpectedly. "I never thought they'd promote him. Not after…."

"The black mark," McKay waved his hand, "Yeah well…….."

And they knew about that and didn't even flinch?

"I need to know what's going on. My son isn't going to tell me."

"I think he should tell you," Ronon said, more to his friend than him.

"I can't," McKay said.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"John and I….we haven't spoken in a long time. Now, I know my son. He's stubborn. So, you will tell me what is going on. Is it a clearance issue?"

McKay flopped onto his seat and sighed, Ronon had gone back upstairs to sleep or maybe stand outside Sheppard's room. "You probably already have it. All family members do."

"So…"

"I can't say."

McKay shifted in his seat. He was nervous.

"You should ask Sheppard."

Sheppard's dad was staring him down.

"Do you want some ice cream?" he asked.

McKay smiled.

The tub was placed in front of him.

"My favourite," he said practically salivating, "Now, I just need a spoon….."

John's father was sitting there, holding a spoon between his fingers and waving it.

"Just tell me where John has been for the last three years and I will hand this over."

McKay stared at him. As if he could be _bought_ with ice cream.

"I was ………admittedly surprised when you told me that John had been promoted. I wasn't happy with him joining the military but then I always wanted more for him. Then he screwed up early in his career, wouldn't follow the correct chain of command. Put his life and others in danger. His mother was gone. His brother was at University. I had retired. We were all alone in our own ways and John…….." he paused and his eyes softened.

McKay looked nervously towards the sitting room. His escape was there. The stairs. Part of him knew that he shouldn't be listening to this. Sheppard would kill him.

"It's only a matter of time before he screws this up too and when you're caught in the cross fire you better hope that he doesn't get you killed. I just want what's best for him."

McKay was finding the pressure unbearable and being used to unbearable pressure was supposed to be his forte.

John's father finally shook his head and slid the spoon across the table, "Knock yourself out."

He had given up easily and McKay sighed, not even wanting the ice cream anymore.

Mr Sheppard pushed himself off his seat and gave him one last pleading look.

McKay felt guilty. His last resolve was melting away with the ice cream.

"Look…if I just give you the basics will you….will you drop this?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And then John took a nuke up in one of the Jumpers-"

"The flying ship?"

"Yes, puddle jumper…I prefer gate ship one but the Colonel had other ideas….where was I? oh yes, he flew it straight at a wraith ship to save us all."

"The wraith? They're the aliens you mentioned….with the hand……"

"Oh, I have another story about _that_ in a minute!"

"How did he escape?"

"The Daedalus picked him up and beamed him back down and then I of course did my magic and saved the day."

"I can't……" he shook his head, "I can't believe this. How many men does he have under his command?"

"No idea. Hundreds. He's second in command….although I still think a member of the science team should become first in command should anything happen."

"No no, you need the military at the head of an operation like that. If you've got these wraith on your tails every other day then you need a strategist at the forefront."

"Well it's usually the brains and not the brawn that save the day. Plus the militarization of Atlantis could be bad."

"My son has brains. Did he tell you he applied for Mensa?"

"Yes, yes…….."

"He was always smart. I can't believe all of this. It's amazing and John's a part of it. A big part.….I never imagined………aliens and….are you an alien?"

"No," McKay nearly choked, "No I'm not. Ronon, now _he's_ your alien."

"He doesn't have special powers does he? I mean, he's not a threat to society or…"

"He has a powerful gun and that's all."

"And John has this gene…"

"Which probably means you have the gene….."

"And he didn't tell me."

"He must have had reasons."  
"Yeah….,me."

McKay was beginning to feel uncomfortable again.

"I……was very strict. John and me, we never really clicked. He was always so downright cocky. He wanted to join the military to fly. I told him to be a pilot then. Over the years….we just grew apart. I don't even feel like I know my own son anymore. He's got this life that he knows I would kill to know about and he doesn't tell me. Watching him get promoted….it would have made up somehow. He could have helped me change my mind sooner and I've been bitter all these years. Thinking he was rotting in Antarctica or worse, kicked out of the military……"

"We were cut off from Earth for a while…."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was feeling a little more clearer headed after his shower and when he went downstairs he was surprised to hear his father laughing. He hadn't heard that in a long time. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, listening as Ronon and McKay's voice's filtered through and then when he heard his father about to tell some embarrassing story about him he wandered in.

"Morning," his father said, "Coffee?"

John slipped into a seat beside McKay and rubbed at his face, "What time is it?"

"About noon," McKay said and gave him a guilty look, "Your father was just telling us about the time you-"

"I don't want to know," John muttered, accepting the coffee off his father.

It was strange. He was giving him an odd look, watching him as he drank, "What?"

His father seemed to realise that he was acting peculiarly and snapped, "Manners."

John sipped his coffee, "You guys sleep well?"

"The bed was a little springy; my back is hurting but…what?" McKay said at Ronon's glare, "It was perfectly fine."

"We should get going."

"You haven't even had breakfast yet."

"I'm good. I'll take some fruit.."

"You need to keep your strength up," his father pushed.

"We're already running late."

His father walked them to the door, shook hands with Ronon and McKay and said they were welcome to drop by anytime. John watched them head to the car and turned to his father.

The silence was back and he didn't know what to do. Usually he'd walk away so incensed; having argued with his father, that he would find their goodbyes easy, but this time, his father was looking at him as if he expected him to say something.

"Well, it was good to see you son."

He believed him.

"Yeah," he nodded and went to turn, but his father gripped his hand firmly and the handshake he thought he was about to receive turned into a hug. His father was holding him close, patting his back affectionately and he just stood stiffly, not knowing what to do with his arms.

"Don't leave it too long next time."

John nodded, "Are you……okay?"

"I'm better," he confided with a small smile, "And we'll talk…._soon_."

"Okay," John turned and headed for the car, aware that for the first time in many years his father was watching him go.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As John got into the car he could see that his father was still watching from the door. He waved as McKay backed up the car and moaned at Ronon for blocking his view with his giant head.

"You told him didn't you?" John asked as they pulled out of the drive.

McKay gave him a look and Ronon was the one that answered for him.

"McKay couldn't keep his mouth shut!"

"I know he has clearance and-."

He didn't know whether to be angry or relieved, "So you told him. Everything?"

"He did this thing with his eyes!" McKay protested, "He had ice cream!"

John nodded and allowed a protracted silence before admitting, "I was kind of relying on that."

"Look it wasn't my……What?"

"I said I was relying on that."

Ronon patted him on the shoulder and smiled.

"You used me!"

"Well you do have a big mouth McKay!"

"Shut up Ronon!"

John leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"And all it took was food. Big surprise!"

"It was-"

"Guys!" John rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Can it! Let's……let's just drive in silence."

"I'm the one driving! You get to sleep!"

"I'm tired."

"You slept all day! How can you be tired? That's it, you're driving-"

John crossed his arms and yawned, "Can't. Medicated remember?"

"I can't believe you used me…"

"Silence."

"I'm going to tell Doctor Lam you forgot your meds."

"Shut up Rodney."

And suddenly the silence wasn't so bad.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N – I don't really know what I've achieved with this. I kind of like it and I deliberately left John's father's name and profession ambiguous. Please comment and let me know how I did with this.


End file.
